Breaking Walls
by NorthernTrash-x
Summary: Kensei/Hisagi. Of empty beds and hidden truths.


Kensei x Hisagi

_I don't know where we are going now_  
><em>So take a look at me now<em>  
>- Stereophonics<p>

**Breaking Walls**

They spend all of their imaginable time together, the two of them. It comes as part of the job, they both know that, can't change it. It is the same for everyone. Captains and Lieutenants, positions of power and prestige but also of cooperation.

A united front.

They meet on the training grounds each morning, exercising separately and then sparring together. It is part of the duty of a Captain to watch over the development of their Lieutenant, and to make sure that they are improving. But it is also useful for the Captain to train with someone who might come slightly close to their level of skill.

And then to the desk.

They work throughout the day, for many more hours than they should. Piles of paperwork that accumulate, although no one knows where these piles appear from. They never seem to make a dent in them, more just keep appearing. Sat at desks opposite each other in the long office of their Division, they work silently and solidly with little communication. They break only for lunch, and even then most of the time it is at their desks, if not at the Division barracks. To their surprise, they always find things to talk about during these brief breaks. They have more in common than they had thought, at first.

At some point in the day they have to go through the drills with their squads. Watch the sparring, offer advice. Hisagi's orders are barked out, and Kensei watches it all, taking every man and woman with a slight sneer that isn't cruel, or particularly intentional.

The two of them inspire loyalty from all of their shinigami. They are loved for different reasons than other Captains and Lieutenants, but loved none the less.

And by that time the light is failing, evening drawing in. The day has past as days always do, and the division building slowly empties as shinigami clock off for the day, back to their barracks or beds or out with friends, until it is just the two of them there. The light from their office shines out from the window. As shinigami pass it they smile in, knowing that their Captain and Lieutenant are hard at work, knowing that as difficult as their day has been, at least the two in charge are trying their hardest, too. It is part of what makes their division one of the best.

Although it is odd that such a high percentage of young girls apply to their division from the Academy. Research put it down to the high level of recruits in the Ninth that went on to get seated positions in other Divisions, and those in charge of things applaud themselves at the pragmatic and ambitious women their Academy is shaping. But ask any of the girls and they wouldn't give you that answer.

In fact, they probably wouldn't give you any answer, but they might blush a little.

It is true that the Captain and Lieutenant of the Ninth Division are _particularly _good looking. They fit every appeal, between them.

Hisagi remembers the first time that he saw the man who is now his Captain. That moment in childhood is etched into his memory, that moment when he had appeared, as if out of nowhere, and had saved him. He had stared, dumb, up at that broad chest and the number tattooed there, wondering if there was any man greater than this one here before him. Wondering if there was any way he might ever become as great, as gallant. A young, frowning face, hair silvered even though his skin was smooth of wrinkles. Body muscular and strong, with a bearing that was almost graceful despite his size. To a scrawny child, he was everything noble in the world.

He didn't see the man again for a century. It had been a hundred years of growth for him. Taller, older, stronger. From a kid to an adult. From strength to strength, but despite that, when he first saw Kensei across the battlefield above the fake Karakura, he felt as if he were still that child.

Helpless, in awe.

The man was different, in subtle ways. His face was lined now where it hadn't been before, his body leaner but more defined. The one hundred years had been kind to him: he still radiated dynamic control, but with a strength that comes from experience. His hair was the same, and so was the look in his eyes.

A determined look. One that you would not readily disobey.

Kensei had caught his eye, and had given him a nod, as if he recognised him.

But he knew that Kensei didn't remember the time he had saved him as a child, not really, not like he did. He had a vague recollection, but nothing more. He had never asked why Hisagi had the same tattoo as him, but on his face, and Hisagi has never offered the information. It is private, just like the memory of the heat of pain on his cheek as it was done by a backstreet tattoo artist in the Rukongai. It hurt, more than anything he had ever felt before, though he has felt worse since, and has the scars to prove it. He can still feel the trickle blood running down his cheek when he closes his eyes.

Kensei often considers asking, but doesn't. He has a feeling that Hisagi doesn't want him to, and he's never been one for prying into other people's privacy. If his Lieutenant ever wants to tell him, then he will.

He does remember seeing Hisagi for the first time on the battlefield though. It hadn't registered what was on his face at first, but he had seen the division number on his armband, had seen that number nine, and still, after all these years, had an affinity to it. That was the main reason he had come back here, to be honest. For that moment, zanpakuto in hand, surrounded by shinigami, he had seen a member of the Ninth Division and had thought, '_he's one of mine'. _He hadn't let go quite as well as he had thought.

One hundred years was not enough to dispel the loyalty.

It had lingered with him, for the weeks following, until Shinji had sat down next to him and told him that he was going back.

He hadn't thought twice.

It had surprised them both when Rose joined them. He had said nothing when they had told the group of their plans, but clearly he had been feeling the same way.

Coming back had been hard.

Not being trusted, for one. The three days of imprisonment whilst the Captain's had conferred. Having to stand trial, for what they had originally run away from, although the fact that everyone now knew what Aizen had done meant that no one really doubted their innocence. It was their powers that they couldn't come to terms with at first. But then they flew through the Captain's tests, and had the approval of the majority of the other Captains.

Part of it, they were sure, was the fact that they were _really _in need of some Captains, and they were the only ones willing to take the job.

The other Captains accepted them soon enough; Shunsui and Jyuushiro acted like they had never been away, and Unohana was the same as ever.

The Captain Commander treated them like any other Captain, as did Komamura and Hitsugaya. The new Kuchiki Captain wasn't friendly with them, but he seemed to be that way with everyone. The same went for Soifon. Kenpachi challenged all three of them, regularly, to fight, as he did with all the Captains. Kurotsuchi had a slight tendency to follow them around staring a little too hard, but they could get used to that.

But all three of them soon forgot their hostile welcome: they had too much to focus on otherwise. Divisions Three, Five and Eight had been in shambles when they had arrived back. Kensei had arrived back on his first day and had marched around the familiar halls in silence with a scowl, his seated officers following him, confused as to why their Captain still had not greeted them.

The barracks were mostly the same, slightly updated in places and a little more battered in others. The faces he passed had all changed; not one person here did he recognise.

Tousen had not used his rooms, apparently. The suite that had once been his had been converted into simple storage space. He had scratched at the paint on the door until the old plate on the door was uncovered, until 'Captain's Quarters' was once again visible. He ordered that Tousen's rooms be emptied, and converted into whatever was needed.

He pulled the plate bearing Tousen's name off the door himself.

The last place he had stopped was his old office. In his day it had been one long room, with a desk either end for Captain and Lieutenant. In his absence Tousen had divided the room into two with a light wood framed partition, to keep them separate, to create 'appropriate boundaries'. He had stared at it for a moment, before striding across the room and tearing it down with his bare hands. His skin was splintered and a thin lines of blood were wetting his skin, but he didn't seem to notice. He had just glared at Hisagi and at the eight shinigami behind him, and clenched his fists.

"No boundaries, not in my division."

They hadn't really known what to say to that.

Afterwards he had introduced himself, and had talked to them and trained with them, because he was of the belief that if you didn't know at the very least your seated officers and their skills then there was no point in calling yourself a Captain, and no point claiming you're your group was a Division. They trained rigorously together every day for the first year or so, until Kensei was satisfied that they were up to scratch.

No unity without trust, he had told them after a couple of weeks.

He said it glaring across the training ground, sweat pouring down his forehead, blinking it out of his eyes. There was so much feeling in his expression, so much emotion, that Hisagi hadn't been able to look away.

It was in that moment that Hisagi had realised that he was sunk.

And now it was fifteen months later, and he was still sinking.

He wonders sometimes if the feelings he has are just an extension of that awe and respect that he felt so strongly as a child, just a desire to emulate him and to make the other man proud. But he knows that isn't the case. He knows that it is so much more than that.

They don't tend to end work for the day until late into the evening, and by that point all there is normally time for is food, and bed. Sometimes one of them makes the time to go for a few drinks with friends, friends who they have known for years and always feel comfortable with, even though inside they feel like they have changed recently, like who they are is _developing _in a way that they can't put their finger on, like a part of their adult selves are growing up even further.

Kensei's friends notice it. Sometimes he looks up and sees Shinji staring at him, a quizzical smile on his face. Rose will be looking at him over the rim of his wineglass, an eyebrow raised, and he realises that he has been quiet for several minutes and has been smiling a little at the table as images of his Lieutenant flash through his mind. They laugh at him, and ask him who he is thinking of, and why he is starting to blush. Hisagi's friends don't notice it, not so much. They are younger, and haven't spent a century confined with each other to have learnt every nuance of his character and moods. But they will punch him on the arm when he is lost in thought, and ask him what's up, and if he needs another beer.

Kensei responds by rolling his eyes, and telling them both to shut up and leave him alone. Hisagi normally just agrees to another drink.

They both complain about their days to their friends, about how hard they work and how long their days are. The Captains agree, nodding their heads. The Lieutenants just tell Hisagi to quit his bitching, they've all got it the same, and if he'd like to swap for a week to deal with Kenpachi, or Hitsugaya, he is more than welcome.

Sometimes, when Kensei and his friends have had too many, he gets them on to the topic of romance, and listens to them wax lyrical, and wonders what they really know about it. Rose, who tries his hardest to avoid nearly everyone. Shunsui, who gives the appearance of a womanizer but who has actually been in love with his best friend for as long as anyone can remember. Jyuushiro, who pushes every person who tries to get involved with him away out of fear of his illness. Shinji, who is scared to let anyone get close.

What do they know of it, his friends?

They ask him about his love life, ask him who he keeps smiling about, even though all of them have guessed. It is obvious when you see the two of them together, Jyuushiro thinks, from the way they are so careful around each other.

Kensei tells them nothing.

It is private.

He doesn't want to talk about his day. He doesn't want to mention the fact that though they meet to train together, they come from the same room, from the same bed. They train so hard that they soak themselves with sweat, in silence, opposite each other, so that they need to shower before they don their uniforms. Kensei goes back to his own quarters, where his laundry is delivered. People would notice if he did anything else.

And then to work, in that long room, opposite each other. Hisagi knows his desk well, but the room is lighter now with the partition down, lighter now that Kensei sits opposite him, occasionally looking up and catching his eye. The room is always full of tension; they press on with their paperwork and try to ignore it until it is time to end the day. They leave the office without saying a word when there is no one else around in the corridors. Hisagi goes right to his quarters, Kensei left, to his.

They brush against each other in the doorway, and it makes Hisagi shiver.

Kensei hasn't slept in his own bed for three months.

He walks back to his rooms slowly, feeling the strain of tiredness in his body. He stretches in his room, strips himself of his uniform, hangs his Captain's haori on his hook and washes his face. Then his rumples his covers to make them look as if they had been slept in and slips out of the door, padding silently down the corridors of the division, the division he can finally call _his _again, past his office, until he reaches the door of the Lieutenant.

Of _his _Lieutenant.

He doesn't knock on the door, just slides it open as quietly as he can.

And Hisagi is waiting for him, as he always is, awake. He has washed too, and his bare chest is sometimes a little damp from where he has not dried himself properly. Kensei always moves towards him with the slightest of smiles pulling up the corners of his mouth.

In those silent hours before they fall asleep they lie together, dark eyes flashing as they touch each other's hard bodies. They press against each other, mouths finding soft places and kissing, tongues darting out to taste hot skin. They move against each other, impatient those first few times but now slightly slower, with an intimacy that they cannot talk about. They make each other sweat again as they fuck, clinging to each other, leaving scratches on their skin.

They talk, a little, before they fall asleep. Hisagi knows that he has found out more about his Captain in those brief, exhausted conversations than at any other time.

They talk about dreams, and fear.

Sometimes Hisagi watches Kensei sleep and wonders what it is he feels for his Captain. Sometimes Kensei does the same.

They don't tell anyone; they never talk about it between them.

One morning Kensei woke to find the bed empty. He rose and went back to his own empty quarters in the silence of the morning. It was winter, and the floors were cold under his bare feet. He dressed, and went to the training grounds, but Hisagi wasn't there, either.

Everything felt oddly quiet, the noises echoing as he began to lift weights. The grounds felt bigger, as if he had shrunk.

Would this be what it would be like, if Hisagi wasn't going to be here?

Would it be this… lonely?

The door banged open. Kensei turned around.

"Sorry I'm late. I was summoned to a meeting early this morning."

He gave a short bow, from subordinate to Captain, and Kensei found himself suddenly hating this formality. It didn't seem right for Hisagi to be doing it to him. He shrugged, and put down the weights, instead reaching for his zanpakuto, as if they were about to spar. Hisagi nodded, and went for his own, but was stopped by a shake of his Captain's head.

"I want to show you something."

He moved his hand upwards, and passed it across his face. White began to form under his fingertips, a mask appeared across his face. The mask of the Vizard. Hisagi stared at him.

"This is what I am really afraid of."

Hisagi remained still, unsure what was expected of him, not knowing what to say.

"The first time I wore this mask, I attacked those closest to me, without thought of who they were and what they meant to me. Every time I am forced to wear it, I am terrified that the same will happen again."

He nodded.

"Every time I fall asleep, I am scared that the hollow inside me will break loose again."

He didn't understand why his Captain was doing this, or why Kensei had chosen this moment to share this most intimate of fears, but he decided not to question it. Instead he inhaled, feeling a burden that he hadn't known was their life from his shoulders. One secret for another, he supposed.

Hisagi closed his eyes, and nodded, pulling out his zanpakuto. He pointed it towards his Captain, holding the hilt loosely in his hands.

"Reap, Kazeshini."

Kensei watched his Lieutenant's blade split into two kusarigama-like weapons, each topped with two scythe blades. The spiritual pressure around Hisagi seemed to thicken, as if a new presence was fuelling his power.

"They remind me of death. What kind of man must I be, to have my zanpakuto be something that cares only for reaping lives?"

Kensei stared at him through the eye slits of his mask.

"All weapons take lives. That is their purpose."

He shook his head, slowly.

"No. They are there to serve many purposes. A weapon can also be used to save lives, to protect them. Only mine, she always calls for blood."

Kensei raised his hand to his face, and dispelled the mask. Hisagi raised his face, to meet his Captain's eyes.

"I am scared of what is inside me, as well."

Kensei narrowed his eyes, and took a step towards him. There was nothing to say, and though he tried to reach out to touch his Lieutenant, his arms felt like lead against his sides. Hisagi's face fell again to face the floor, and Kensei found words again.

"I am not afraid of you."

A smile tugged at Hisagi's mouth.

"And I am not afraid of you."

He exhaled at his Lieutenant's words, a sense of relief flowing through him.

"If we could run away, would you go with me?"

Now Hisagi, his Hisagi, looked at him again, the smile on his face genuine and warm.

"You know I would."

Kensei nodded, appeased, and raised his zanpakuto again.

"But since we can't leave this division, we might as well keep sparring."

Hisagi nodded, and raised his own.

And if their friends noticed, from that day forward, that they both seemed lighter, somehow, then they never mentioned anything. And if their subordinates began to notice how in tune their Captain and Lieutenant seemed to be sometimes, then they didn't think too much of it. At the end of the day, the two of them seemed happy. The Vizards share glances at how much Kensei has changed; Yumichika and Matsumoto speculate about why their friend seems to be happier recently. Neither of them say anything in explanation, neither of them feel the need to.

The days pass the way that they always do. They rise, they train, they work, they eat.

Training is everything; routine is key.

If you are in the Ninth Division, you are brought to believe that trust is more important than either of those things.

Months, years pass in the same way in the Soul Society.

Kensei still hasn't slept a night in his own bed.


End file.
